Epiphany
by Sabsz
Summary: Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter might have found their happy ending. With a brilliant son, Leonardo, everything seems perfect. They didn't think that one day Mason Verger would come back to haunt them. A story where Mason lived instead of died.
1. Prologue

Author's Note: The beginning of this story takes place about a month after the end of Hannibal. I have never read the books, sadly, and so I'm basing most off the movie. However I'm reading Red Dragon now and I purchased all the books but I haven't read them yet. Anything I don't know will be made up so I apologize if it conflicts or even contradicts the book. Also in this story, Mason Verger never died. Cordell never had the guts to push him into the Muskrat pen. So he will be a very big character in this story. I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. The rest of the story takes place 4 years after the end of Hannibal.

Disclaimer: I'll write this once and this will go for the rest of the story. I own nothing that belongs to Thomas Harris. I barely even own my plot. The only thing that is mine is my random made up characters and perhaps Leonardo Lecter Poverelli.

On with the story, shall we?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Epiphany**

Prologue

The August heat was upon her now, as Clarice slept, she stirred from discomfort. A concerned Hannibal moves his maroon eyes over her sleeping body, for a moment, he had thought the screaming lambs were taunting her once again. He frowned and then realized it was August's unnerving heat that was bothering her. The fan above them starts to rotate as he flips the switch and Clarice begins to sleep soundly again. He watches her for a moment, takes note of how rhythmic her breaths were, how they were never out of pattern. Dr. Hannibal Lecter was concerned about Clarice; it was a month or so after the night in Chesapeake Bay and a little less then a month that they had given themselves to one another. He had been watching her closely; he didn't live too far from here but was close enough to know what she was doing, who she was seeing. It wasn't an obsession, more like Hannibal being protective. He hadn't been inside her house since that night. He almost felt her lips graze his and almost saw her face full of ecstasy, he had trouble believing that it was only a little less then a month ago.

Hannibal surveyed the bedroom with his cold, maroon eyes. Clothes were strewn about on the floor, magazines fanned out on the chest at the foot of her bed in a disorganized, messy manner. A glass stood on her nightstand, still sweating from the melting ice and Hannibal brings the glass up to his nose and he cringes. Jack Daniels, he moves his eyes over her sleeping form. He frowns, she was deeper in then he had previously thought. As Clarice Starling slept, he cleaned up the room as well as the rest of the small apartment quickly, quietly and efficiently. As the sun began peaking over the window and leaving the room sunlit washed, he returned back to the armchair that overlooked Clarice's bed.

And he waited.

Hannibal was a patient man; he sat in the chair rather quietly with his hands neatly folded in his lap. An hour passed, incredibly slowly and about 6:57 that morning, Clarice's eyes fluttered opened and she met his maroon gaze. She inhaled sharply that might have been a gasp but Hannibal wasn't quite interested or sure about that. He smiled that Hannibal Lecter trademark smile, bordering on kindness, loving and creepy, sadistic. Clarice Starling saw it as the kind, loving smile that everyone had saw as the exact opposite. It was the reason why she became the outcast, the black sheep at the Bureau and did affect her choice to resign from the FBI. But that was about a month ago, shortly after the infamous Paul Krendler situation.

"Good morning, little Starling. How are you, my dear?" There it was his metallic, silky voice that she hadn't heard in since that night. She watched him for a moment, almost expecting him to keep speaking. Keep talking. But he didn't.

"How long have you been there, Lecter?" Clarice said sharply but he did not respond. For a few moments, Clarice was in the dark as to why he hadn't responded. She sighed and nodded. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. No lies, Clarice. I thought you knew I did not like liars." He replies quickly after she politely told him how she was. Clarice knew now that she would have to change her answer to actually start a conversation.

"Honestly? I've been a wreck. Considering how closely you've been watching me, yes I do know you've been watching me; I thought you would already know that. I don't work at the FBI any longer. You know that but you want to hear it from me. I've been unemployed since then and a certain Mr. Jack Daniels has become my best friend. Is that satisfactory to you, Dr. Lecter? Or would you like to know what time of the day I go to the bathroom?" Clarice speaks quickly and she keeps her cerulean eyes narrowed on the doctor, serial killer, madman sitting in the arm chair feet from her. He seems amused and that is evident in both his glittering red eyes and sardonic smile plastered on his face.

"Oh quite satisfactory, Clarice. No need to be rude or unpleasant, I am simply curious about your well being. And furthermore, I am quite disappointed that you still are adamant on calling me Dr. Lecter. Why is that? I'm certain that we _know _each other well enough to drop the formalities." He silences and Clarice smirks, she obviously is not amused with the doctor that she so obviously is in love with.

"Why don't you shut up, Hannibal?" A beat. "Are you here to break my heart again?"

Hannibal's features seem to darken and he lowers his maroon eyes to the wood planked floors. To a stranger, it might have seemed he was engrossed with his feet or perhaps his shoes. To Clarice, however, she was certain that perhaps guilt had finally woven into his heart. Suddenly, he lifts his maroon eyes and Clarice wasn't sure if his eyes were becoming watery, evidence of the Doctor's true emotions.

"You know that is not true, Clarice. Do you think I could have stood around to hold your hand as you had so conveniently resigned from the FBI? Are you not aware that they only stopped watching you a week ago, certain that I would not come here again to visit you? If you were not aware, this and that night were risks for me. However, they were risks I was willing to take."

Guilt begins to wash over Clarice and it was her turn to become engrossed with her feet. Hannibal on the other hand, was disappointed to see this, to know that he couldn't see her clear, cerulean eyes for a moment. He extends his arm and lifts up her chin with his forefinger. He was surprised to see tears dripping down her cheeks and he wipes them with his thumb and she can't help but smile.

"Those weeks were agonizing for me as well."

"Hannibal." She says this as she might reveal a secret, a confession. Hannibal is confused, which is a rare emotion for him to be feeling; he searches her face for some truth, anything. "Hannibal," She repeats, "I think I might be pregnant."

He inhales sharply and he knows that it is plausible. He had witnessed her vomiting a few times but he had believed it was from stress, perhaps the liqueur as well. That night had happened about a month ago so it was incredibly plausible. Shock is plastered on his face. He is trying to gather words to say, words of encouragement perhaps advice, anything. He inhales again and he takes her hand in his.

"Clarice……." He gathers that much but he is still too surprised to speak. "Did you do a test? Are you sure, Clarice?"

For a moment, she believes that he is sad about this but she realizes her mistake and he is currently in shock. Herself, she doesn't know how she feels. She was 34, almost 35 and it might be her only chance to have a child. She sighs and tears roll more freely and Hannibal desperately wipes them from her faces. He doesn't like to see her in pain.

"No. I'm not sure and I haven't done the test yet and I actually have one. I've been trying to gather courage to do it." She smirks. "I've never been a coward and I find it ironic that I am one at this moment. And not even because a serial killer is sitting a foot away from me."

It was Hannibal's turn to chuckle and nod sadly.

"Clarice, let's be serious. Go and perform the pregnancy test." She nods and swallows hard. Nervous, Hannibal could tell and was a little nervous himself. Clarice retreats to the bathroom and about 10 minutes later, she returns and her face is pale and she was crying harder now.

Hannibal jumps to his feet and gathers her in his arms. Crooning her and soothing her, she begins to quiet some. He places a strong hand on her hand and caresses her the back of her head. He says a single word that will eventually map out the rest on their lives.

"Positive?"

Clarice only nods.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a small hospital, just outside of Milan on March 14th, a pale skinned woman with clear, cerulean eyes and brunette hair by the name of Caprice Poverelli begins to give birth to her son with her husband, Anthony clutching her hand. He soothes her as she screams and soon the screams of an American-born Italian die out as the cries of an infant boy come in.

Anthony Poverelli grins at his wife, Caprice. They were better know as Hannibal Lecter and the ex-Special Agent Clarice Starling but for their sake, they went under rather, ordinary Italian names. The child was born perfectly, five fingers on each hand and five tiny toes on each foot. Clarice was ecstatic and felt a love she had never had before. A motherly love. Despite her recent worries of not being a good mother, she believed that perhaps she would be now. The nurse takes the child for a minute and cleans him up for what seemed to Clarice and Hannibal, hours. The baby boy is placed in Clarice's arms and she sighs and gazes upon the love child of Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lector.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"He's beautiful, Han-" She stops herself and corrects herself, "Anthony."

"I'm certain of that as well, Caprice. What would we like to call him, my love? It certainly has to be Italian if we are to spend the rest of our days in Milan." Clarice absentmindedly nods; she was drinking in the beauty of her son. She lifts her cerulean eyes up at him.

"How about, Leonardo? Leonardo Lecter." She seems to be content with this as well was Hannibal.

"Leonardo Poverelli, Caprice. Poverelli. A just name, I happen to like it very much myself. Leonardo means lion's strength or something of that sort."

Clarice looks at him for a moment and back at her son, seeming to ignore Hannibal's last statement.

"He looks just like you."

Leonardo had white, ivory skin with rosy cheeks and sharp, firm features. He had magnetic eyes, much like his father, Hannibal Lecter. Deep eyes of maroon, although considerably lighter then his father's. The light danced in his irises, pinpointing the red in them. Clarice noticed the same in Hannibal's eyes. On his head was little evidence of pure black hair, deep and rich. She imagined Hannibal would have look very similar to this as an infant. Hannibal seemed to notice that too.

"Incredibly so. I hope he inherited something from you. Your fiery personality, perhaps. Your courage. Anything." He drops his eyes to his son and he is overcome by a parental love. He touches Leonardo's cheek softly and notices how soft it is.

"Would you like to hold your son?" Clarice asks quietly, recognizing the longing in Hannibal's similar and familiar maroon eyes. He nods and soon his child was in his arms, content and quiet. He moved his eyes over the room, as if sinking everything in. The boy seemed curious and rather strong. He was quiet, and barely muffled a few cries. He grabbed hold of Hannibal's finger and a smile of pleasure erupts across Hannibal's face. Clarice Starling Lecter never saw him so happy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tada. How do you like it so far? Onto chapter 1!


	2. Chapter One

**Epiphany**

Chapter Two

_Four Years Later_

The sound of a piano waked a sleeping Clarice Starling Lecter or as the citizens of Milan knew her, Caprice Poverelli. She groaned and moved into a sitting position as she took a glance at the clock to her right. 8:00 AM, Leonardo's piano lesson, she realized quickly. She moved her eyes over the immaculate master bedroom that Hannibal and she shared. The bed was large and cloaked in an expensive beige comforter that was silky to the touch. The walls were painted an off white with delicate carvings etched into corners and where the wall met the floor. There was a double door, leading out to the veranda that overlooked the city. The curtains were drawn closed, leaving the room cloaked in mid-darkness. The floor was wood; it seemed to shine from the sunlight. In the corner of the room was a vanity, Clarice remembered carefully doing her makeup or getting ready for a prestigious play or opera that the Doctor had been given or bought tickets to. The room was spacious and the door was shut. Clarice moved to her feet and retrieved a cotton bathrobe from her closet and draped it over her shoulders and tied it tight around her waist. With that, she quietly left the room.

Moving down the long hall, she met the music room with the sound of her son's and Hannibal's voice. He was being the teacher and Leonardo was quite the student. They said he was a prodigy, incredibly intelligent like Hannibal and an incredible knack for music. Hannibal and Leonardo were incredibly similar but he was stubborn like Clarice. He was strong and had a rather sharp tongue. He was a clever little boy and quite the bookworm as well. She watched them silently from the doorframe, moving her eyes over the duo. Leonardo moved his long fingers over the keys and played a familiar tune that Clarice could not place.

"Leonardo, it goes like this. Do your best to follow." Hannibal said loud enough for Clarice to hear. Her son responded quickly and rather politely. He was a rather polite little boy.

"Yes, Papa." Hannibal's fingers danced over the keys and Clarice smiled softly. They were so alike, it was incredible. Leonardo was a curious little boy and often in school he was reprimanded for asking such outrageous questions. He was fluent in both Italian and English as was Hannibal and Clarice. Hannibal, however, was fluent in a multitude of languages and was currently teaching their son French. Sometimes, Clarice once confessed, she felt lost when Hannibal and Leo had an intellectual conversation.

Leonardo quickly copied his father's fingers and a similar sounding tune came out. When the song was over, Hannibal patted the boy on the back before whirling around to meet Clarice's amused glance.

"Good morning, Caprice. Sleep well, I hope?" Clarice nodded and smiled. He only called her Caprice in public and he hated when he called her that. But they had to; their son could not know their real names or any of their friends or neighbors.

"Mama!" Leonardo shrieked and ran to his mother's side and she gathered him in her arms. "Did you hear me play the song on the piano, Mama? Papa say's I'm exceptional. Do you think so, Mama?"

Clarice smiled and planted a kiss on the boy's cheek. His grin only grew larger. "Of course, my darling. You are quite extraordinary. Actually, don't tell your Papa this, I think you are better then him!" She looked up and saw Hannibal's eyes glittering amusingly. He smiled softly and Clarice put her attention back on their son.

"Really?" He asked in a tight voice and grinned. "Of course, Mama. I won't tell him a word!"

Clarice put her son back on his feet and straightened out his messy ebony hair.

"Leonardo, that's enough for today. You did quite well, in fact. Wash up for breakfast. We will meet you down in the dining room momentarily." Hannibal said to his son and he sprinted off to the bathroom.

Clarice walked towards him and leaned in. Their lips brushed up against each others for a few seconds. She watched him as they pulled apart. He seemed so happy as was she.

"Clarice, are you prepared for tonight's opera? It is suppose to be exquisite. Leonardo is incredibly excited for it. The boy has such refined taste."

"Oh Hannibal, I just really wonder from where he gets it from!" Clarice exclaimed and again he gathered her in his arms and they shared a wonderful lip lock. Clarice almost didn't want to leave for breakfast.

Their life in Milan was nothing short of amazing. The FBI had Clarice Starling as a missing person and many believed she was dead. They were still searching for Hannibal Lecter as they forever will be. Clarice doubted they would ever catch him. They were searching for a single man that was under suspicion from the city's police force. Hannibal was neither, he was now Anthony Poverelli, a European born Italian that was married to Caprice Poverelli, an American born Italian. And they certainly were not looking for a man with a child. It seemed to be foolproof. With those almost five years in Milan, not a single person had inquired to them. Mason Verger had supposedly given up the chase and was now thought to be dead. Or at least, Hannibal and Clarice hoped so.

"Okey dokey, then. Off to prepare breakfast." With that, Hannibal was gone.

Clarice retreated back to the master bedroom and fingered through her closet looking for something appropriate to wear for today's events. Searching her mind, she found her schedule. Drop Leonardo off at his violin lesson, go to work, come home early and go to the Opera. Clarice pulled out a white skirt that came to the knee and a sky blue v-neck with three quarter sleeves. It was early March and was quite warm for Italy. Clarice thought the outfit was satisfactory for a Secretary. Presently, Hannibal had opened up his out Psychiatry practice a little into town and she worked as his secretary. They were quite wealthy by Milan's standards and that pleased Clarice. She was leading the perfect life.

She moved into the bathroom and turned the water on, she began to soak in the suds and after a few moments, returned back to the bedroom where she quickly applied makeup and fashioned her hair in a neat bun. Dressing quickly, she left to go downstairs and join her husband and son for breakfast.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Cordell? Cordell?" Mason Verger shrieked for his personal nurse, butler and whatever else Mason needed him for. The man arrived quickly, exasperated. Mason wasn't too pleased with this. "Cordell! Where the fuck where you? Well thank God that you are here, get Emilio on the fucking line."

"Of course." Cordell managed to squeak out. In his deepest heart, he wished that he had listened to Hannibal Lecter all those years ago when he had suggested that he should push Mason into the Muskrat pen and blame it all on him. God, how Cordell wished he listened to the demented, twisted Doctor.

He left the room quickly, his footsteps fading away from Mason as he went to retrieve the phone. Emilio was Mason's hired 'assassin', a polite way to put it, and was currently stationed in Europe, looking and searching for Hannibal Lecter and perhaps his whore, Clarice Starling.

Cordell arrived back quickly with a cordless phone; he punched in Emilio's private number and put the phone on speaker. Mason Verger shooed his butler from the room and Cordell happily obliged. He was a neither morbid nor twisted person. He was actually rather squeamish and a kind man, he even refused to shoot Hannibal Lecter with Clarice Starling in his arms. And he certainly did not what to hear Mason Verger discuss the kidnapping, torture and eventual death of Hannibal Lecter with a Hispanic assassin that was probably more sick and twisted then Mason himself.

"Emilio!" He said through a raspy, ill voice.

"Mason?"

"Yes, it's me, you stupid fuck. Did you find that fucker or what? Where is that son of a bitch?!" He seemed to scream into the speaker.

"Oh, I found the dirty bastard, all right. Oh, it's better then you imagined." Emilio seemed to chuckle into the phone but Mason grew quiet, although impatient and squirming in his seat.

"Hannibal Lecter is married, Mr. Verger. The bastard is fucking Clarice Starling, what a surprise, eh?" Emilio knew a bit about Clarice, her past cases and her history with Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter. Emilio also knew about the twisted rumors about a relationship between Clarice and Dr. Lecter.

"Not a sur-fucking-prise. Is that all, Emilio? Tell me more!" Mason demanded through the speaker.

"Oh there's more, Verger. Much more. That fucker has a son with that wench Starling. They are going under the names Anthony and Caprice Poverelli and their son is Leonardo. Quite the genius, I might add."

"Where are they?"

"Milan. What are my orders, Verger? Oh, I found your flying fucks but to kill them, all of them, my price is going up a little."

"How much?" Mason seemed intrigued.

"5 million for the kidnapping and eventual death of the fuck faced family."

"Done."

"So, what are my orders?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clarice Starling drummed her fingers upon a mahogany desk, bored out of her wits. Upon her desk, was an intercom system, to let people inside the office. Pens, pencil and an appointment book lay in a neat pile on the right side. Checking the appointments carefully, an Emilio Dominguez was scheduled after Hannibal's session was over. The Hispanic hadn't made his appearance yet and was wondering if he was going to show up. Just then, the intercom was patched through and she pressed the button to speak into it.

"Hello, state your name and time of appointment." She said curtly.

The man at the door responded quickly with a deep Spanish accent that she had placed from perhaps Cuba or even Puerto Rico. _What's a man from there doing in Milan? _Not that she cared all that much. Hannibal and herself weren't too different either; they had left the States for Milan to run away from the FBI and were posing as American and European born Italians. She was not in the position to judge.

"Emilio Dominguez. I am here to see Dr. Poverelli in about 10 minutes."

"Well, good morning, Mr. Dominguez. The door will unlock momentarily and please make your way in."

"Gracias."

Emilio walked into the room quickly and met eyes with Clarice Starling. He was a tall man; about six foot three with piercing black eyes. His skin tone was dark, bronze and had thinning black hair. He seemed about forty and was in incredible good shape. He had wiry muscles that were evident through his tight, white shirt. His hands, Clarice could see, were scarred and calloused and she felt that as she shook his hand. She watched him for a moment, studying the numerous scars upon his torso. He had a strong jaw and small, narrowed eyes. His brow was a little too close together which shadowed his eyes and all together, he was rather intimidating looking. _How many people did this nutcase kill? _Clarice found herself wondering. She had thought their greetings to each other had finished but instead, Emilio brought her finely manicured hand up to his lips, kissing it quickly. Clarice watched him oddly and for once, was glad that Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter was her husband and would kill anyone that touched her. Emilio Dominguez had something ominous about him, his eyes seemed cold, emotionless and his gaze was unnerving. She was glad to hear Hannibal's voice through the speaker on the desk.

"Caprice, my love, is Mr. Dominguez present at the moment?" He spoke in fluent Italian.

"Yes, Dr. Poverelli. He arrived moments ago." She responded in equally as good Italian.

"Excellent, I'm sending Mrs. Marino out momentarily. Send him in when you see her."

"Of course."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emilio watched Clarice Starling curiously. He had kissed her hand before; he liked to have a sense of attraction to his victims. He liked to feel aroused as he killed them, meeting Clarice Starling for the first time, Emilio knew he wouldn't have a problem with that. Watching her now, he realized how quite strong the attraction was. He would almost be sad to watch her die. She was a beautiful creature. Bright, cerulean eyes that contrasted a pallid skin tone. Her hair was pulled back tightly; it accented her high cheek bones and short nose. _I'll have some fun with her before that whore dies. Maybe, I'll make Lecter watch. God, he will feel pain. That twisted fuck Mason will love that. _He smiled, amused but Clarice wasn't watching him at the moment. Emilio had been surprised when she had spoken fluent Italian to the doctor but he reminded himself, he had found the right whore. Dr. Lecter was only seconds away. He couldn't wait to feel their fresh, warm blood on his hands. He was practically squirming in his seat. _Remember, Emilio. Patience. The plan will work, just have patience. Then…then those bastards would die._ He thinks as Mrs. Marino exits the building. Only a matter of time, he reminds himself again. His thoughts are interrupted by the attractive Clarice Starling.

"Mr. Dominguez?" He looks up sharply and gives a fake smile that in some way looks awkwardly real. But to Clarice Starling, it looking awkwardly threatening and quite ominous. She was hesitant of this man.

"Go straight in."

"Thank you." He responds and goes to his feet. _Only a matter of time. _

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first chapter is done! How do you like it? Emilio Dominguez is rather twisted, no? Hah. I'm hoping you like it so far. On to Chapter two! I know it's odd I did 3 chapters at a time but I'm going away and want to get rid of this muse. It's off to a slow start but it should be more action packed later! I hope it's in character so far.


	3. Chapter Two

**Epiphany**

Chapter Two 

Emilio Dominguez walked in with a sense of pride, his black eyes moving over the Doctor's office rapidly. He was making note of little details that he could use against the cannibalistic Dr. Lecter. The room was neat, spacious, a fake diploma hung up on the wall with Doctor Anthony Poverelli written across in big, bold, dark letters. There was a small desk in the corner that was bare on top expect for a small notebook that seemed quite empty. There was a couch up against the wall and various paintings hung up. The windows were kept open and Emilio could feel the soft breeze against his cheek. He glanced at Dr. Lecter and kept his gaze, which was unnerving to most, on him. However, Dr. Lecter returned the cool gaze expect out of deep maroon eyes with pinpoints of brighter red that danced in the sunlight. Dr. Lecter was older then Emilio had thought, he was about sixty but he kept the Doctor's crimes in his mind. Hannibal Lecter was not a man that you underestimated.

"Sit down, Mr. Dominguez." Dr. Lecter said, his metallic voice unnerved Emilio for a moment but then he fingered the knife in his pocket and smiled. The blade in his pocket kept him relaxed, he felt powerful with the weapon and he was sure Dr. Lecter felt the same way as he was bent over a victim, ready to take their life with his harpy. That sense of power, of being the one in control.

"Alright, Doctor..." For a moment, Emilio had almost said Lecter but caught himself. He wondered if Lecter had noticed.

"What brings you here today, Emilio? May I call you that? Or would you rather Mr. Dominguez?" Dr. Lecter spoke slowly as if Emilio couldn't understand. _Why the fuck not, Lecter? I'm sure that you will be screaming that name through your tears for mercy, Doctor. _

"Emilio." Emilio pauses and keeps his black gaze on the doctor, trying to make him nervous. _Why the fuck am I here, Lecter? Maybe it is to tell you that your goddamned bastard son is shitting in his pants from fear on Mason's private jet. Oh no, but I won't tell you that. I'll you something else. _Emilio thinks for a moment, and then he speaks quite slowly, his voice level. Emilio Dominguez is a good liar. "Honestly, Doctor, I've been having thoughts of suicide."

The doctor eyes him suspiciously and the same thought that came across Clarice, enters his mind as well. Why was a Puerto Rican or perhaps Cuban born male in Milan but obviously wearing American clothes and speaking English so fluently? He recognized the deep Spanish accent; he seemed to hesitate before answering the Doctor. A good liar perhaps, the Doctor had wondered. Dr. Lecter could smell him, gun powder. The subtle trace of the residue of a gun. He seemed to bathe in it. Emilio Dominguez seemed to bathe in slaughter and death. Who have you killed, Emilio Dominguez, Dr. Lecter wondered. He inhaled once more. Blood. The coppery smell of blood, it was still evident on him. Who are you, Emilio?

"Any thoughts to why, Emilio? How is your personal life?" Dr. Lecter asked the Hispanic after he pulled out of his thoughts. Emilio responded quickly.

"My alcoholic wife left me. That tramp. I'm alone and obsessed and I can't get _death _out of my mind."

That was partially true. His wife had left him, well, in reality, Emilio had killed her. He was obsessed, with death and slaughter and the easy act of torture. And Emilio was alone, in his own tormented mind. So in essence, Emilio Dominguez had not lied to the Doctor at all. Just….distorted the truth a bit and hadn't added in all the facts. Dr. Lecter frowned at the word tramp, he did not like obscene language and he disliked the Hispanic more that he had used such a vulgar word. If he hadn't given up killing, Lecter would have made Emilio Dominguez number one on his target list.

"May I inquire as to what you are obsessed with?" Emilio grinned, hoping for that question.

"Hannibal Lecter." He responds sharply, smiling madly. Dr. Lecter narrows his red gaze upon the Hispanic man. He is not nervous. He moves to his feet and slowly locks the door. Emilio had not been expecting that. Lecter whirls around to face the Hispanic, his eyes still narrowed on him. He stands on his feet and for once, Emilio feels intimidated and slightly weaker. But the knife in his pocket reassures him. _Only a matter of time._

"Emilio Dominguez. A murderer of, hmm, I'm not quite sure. But you have certainly spilt blood. A Hispanic male, Cuba or Puerto Rico, tell me Emilio. Now tell me, who are you exactly?" Hannibal says this sharply, quite sharply actually. His words could have been more dangerous then his harpy lingering in his pocket.

"You know too much, Hannibal. I am exactly who I say I am. Emilio Dominguez, age 44. Employee of a certain twisted billionaire by the name of…"

"Mason Verger."

"Ah, I suppose you met that fucking disgusting piece of filth that happens to pay my bills. Nice work on his face, I must admit. Isn't he incredibly attractive, Lecter?" Hannibal Lecter is on his feet and walking towards him. Emilio notices the glint of silver in his right hand. The infamous harpy comes out to play.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. You have a dirty mouth, Mr. Dominguez. I find that incredibly rude and I suppose you know my reputation. And yes, I do happen to agree with you. He is quite a vision, isn't he? I happen to think he is quite attractive without a face. If you are into that sort of thing."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Lecter." Amusement dances upon Lecter's features. He grins and stops for a moment. Emilio hadn't even risen from his seat. He doesn't even seem afraid, Lecter wonders why. He watches him for a moment, not quite sure why this Emilio Dominguez was so bold.

"May I inquire as to why, Emilio?"

"Leonardo Poverelli. We have your fucking son, Lecter. And he's on a one way flight to that pedophile Mason Verger's estate. You kill me and you'll never find him again. Now put down the fucking harpy, and maybe you'll see that brat again. Maybe after Verger has some _fun_ with him." Emilio says quickly but rather confidently. He rises from his feet and realizes he is slightly taller then the older psychotic Doctor.

Hannibal has become rather serious, his face hardening with the realization of what happened. He cocks his head to the side, still unaware of why he needs to keep Emilio Dominguez alive. Leonardo was going to Mason Verger's estate and he knew where that was. Mason couldn't leave the state so he doubted it was somewhere other then what he thought. What are you playing at, Emilio? Perhaps Mason Verger set you up. The bastard.

"I still don't see why I have to keep you alive? I believe your bluffing; I do not have to keep you alive at all. I know where Mason Verger estate is and I suppose my son is on the plane already. Give me one reason why I shouldn't gut you like a fish? Hmm? Please enlighten me, Emilio. I'm _dying _to know why."

"Because…." Emilio paused and he came to the realization that he didn't know anything. He was told Hannibal had met Mason Verger on his previous estate before he had peeled his face off. That Lecter didn't know where Mason Verger's estate was and that without Emilio; he would never see his son again. Emilio realized that he had been set up. Mason Verger set him on a suicide mission. They didn't need him at all. Hannibal Lecter and his wench Clarice would take the bait and go to his estate and are killed by others there. Mason Verger was just saving money but killing him off. Goddamnit.

Emilio inhaled sharply, he felt the cold sharpness of steel stabbed into his gut. It was painful to breathe. He looked up to see Lecter's dancing features and he gave a sardonic smile and quickly removed the harpy from his body. Emilio felt like one of his victims, he half expected Lecter to tear off his face with his teeth but Lecter just watched as he faded away. He couldn't manage words, he couldn't manage anything. He fell to the floor and saw the doctor scowl from blurry vision. He saw the Doctor pull out a cloth and wipe the harpy clean. Lecter wasn't too amused with the Hispanic. In fact, he was tempted to kill him even more horrendously. But he stopped himself. Emilio never felt such pain; it was difficult to do anything. The wound was bleeding profusely. He saw the Doctor shaking his head sadly.

"You are certainly going to stain my carpet. I fear I dislike you more with each passing second." He went to his knees and whispered into his victim's ear. "You should certainly pray that I find Leonardo in time, or you are going to be wishing you were dead."

Emilio didn't understand this for a moment but then realized. He was going to be kept alive. The wound wouldn't kill him but just cause an incredible amount of pain. It was ingenious, actually. Lecter watches him with hatred, anger and taps him lightly with his foot. He's never lusted blood so much before. He felt he was twenty again and he was revenging Mischa's murder once more. Grinning, he slashes his own palm and let his blood fall to the carpet. The blood drips from his palm quickly and Hannibal's face pales as he loses more blood. He knows the police wouldn't believe two deaths but it could stall the investigation for a few weeks. Why had Hannibal cut his own palm? Or did some else cause the wounds? Hannibal had also known that Emilio wouldn't hesitate to give up Hannibal. He again returns to his knees and slashes his victim's throat, not deep enough to kill him but in the right place to damage his vocal cords. It was a long shot but Hannibal was pressed for time. Ultimately, they would have to leave Milan. Hannibal frowned, he had heard Greece or perhaps Spain was beautiful. Or perhaps London. Emilio Dominguez and Mason Verger were just an annoying inconvenience.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hannibal walks quickly from the room and never looked back at the still but alive bronze body of Emilio Dominguez, murderer of five and for lack of better terms, Mason Verger's puppet. The title of bitch was awarded to the one and only, Cordell. Oddly enough, Hannibal's heart was moving fast within his body, he was growing intensely worried. He did have a love for his son and of course, his wife, Clarice Starling. But Hannibal knew he did have time. Mason wouldn't harm his son in anyway before Hannibal and Clarice arrived, Verger was looking for them and he wouldn't harm the bait. At least not…physically. Hannibal had a new, increasing worry. Mason Verger was and forever shall be a pedophile. And that worried Hannibal.

Blood still stained Hannibal's hand, his own blood continued to seep out from his wound and Emilio's blood had soaked both his hands and a small part of his shirt. As he walked, or rather, ran out of his office towards Clarice's desk, she gasps. Her eyes bulge and for a moment, she is entirely confused. She was already on her feet and was silent for a moment. Hannibal disappears through the bathroom and moments later returns bloodless and with a new, clean shirt on. Still, they do not speak and Clarice watches him, speechless. Hannibal however, is thinking. Dissecting the events of today, figuring out a plan. He finally looks at her and sighs sharply before speaking.

"Emilio Dominguez is a twisted man as is his employer, the billionaire Mason Verger."

Clarice inhales sharply, and breathes hard through her nose. She had little doubt that an Emilio Dominguez lay on the floor of Hannibal's office, dead and perhaps half eaten. She had hoped that Hannibal had abandoned his cannibalistic ways, but for a man like Emilio Dominguez, she didn't care either way.

"You killed him, Hannibal?" She states the obvious and mistakenly uses his real name but he doesn't bother to correct her.

"No, Clarice. I simply….wounded him severely. The police should arrive soon, once his body is discovered."

"You didn't kill him? Why the fuck not? He's here to kill us, Hannibal. He's working for Verger! And you didn't kill that son of a bitch. Well, I will!" Clarice jumps to her feet and Hannibal narrows his frightening maroon eyes at her and she breathes hard, scared and nervous.

"Clarice, sit down." He says this very sharply but keeps his voice level and low. He had never spoken sharply to her before and she was beginning to wonder if there was more to the story. Of course there was. "Clarice, we are leaving for the airport momentarily. Remain calm about this. They have Leonardo and he's on a one way flight to Baltimore to meet the bastard billionaire himself."

She sits stunned and her cerulean eyes begin to fill up with tears, they drop from her cheeks and her body shakes a bit. She bites her bottom lip and jumps to her feet, and retrieves the loaded gun from her bottom draw. She glances at Hannibal sharply.

"I'm going to fucking kill that son of a bitch."

"I was thinking the same thing, Clarice."

The two worried parents left the office quickly with the body of Emilio Dominguez, still alive but unconscious lying still in the Doctor's office. They were off to the airport to leave for Baltimore and that sick son of a bitch, Mason Verger would pay deeply. And Hannibal suspected that he wasn't going to be the one to kill him. He never saw such hatred in Clarice's eyes and he never sensed such a lust for blood in her either. Mason Verger didn't know what pain was, but he would learn, momentarily.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hm, I rather like this chapter. I'm not sure if the part with Hannibal 'injuring' Emilio would have been accurate but I'm not a doctor so I wouldn't know. Well onto chapter three, yes? Hm, three chapters at a time. I wonder if I should have submitted them one at a time.


	4. Chapter Three

Well, hey sorry for not updating in a while. Not many reviews so I was going to wait but I really want to get a chapter out. But for the reviews I did get, thank you!

VorangorTheDemon: I can't help but answer your question. I read a lot of fics where they just have a child, like a normal couple would. And I personally think that can never happen. But what if it was an accident? I hardly think Hannibal would get rid of the child because of how he lost Mischa. And I think Clarice always wanted to be a mother. My personal opinion, though.

Yay! I finally finished the Hannibal series. It was incredible.

Onto the next chapter:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Epiphany

Chapter Three

The airport was crowded, noisy but the noise seemed to fade away for Clarice. She could feel the pounding heart in her throat when it ought to be secure between her ribs. Her stomach was tight; it seemed to be clenched as if she was holding her breath. She was in a way. Dread made her unable to think or speak or breathe or do anything really. Clarice was watching the people weave through the crowds, their faces sometimes so happy so excited and red with laughter. Sometimes others had tears in their eyes with the goodbyes still fresh on their lips. Clarice Starling at the moment was neither, she looked like a ghost. Her face was pale, her eyes unnaturally puffy and dim. It was void of expression. The realization of what was happening was sinking into her now. She never felt so numb before.

The leather seats were soft underneath her body; she was fingering the fabric, trying to keep the nervous mother tears away. Her eyes were lingering on Hannibal's body, he was so calm, and his hand did not even shake as he passed the lady working at the counter his credit card. _Remain calm, Clarice. Please try. It's a lot to ask for but we must not make spectacles of ourselves. Mason won't touch him until we are there. _She was remembering his words in the car ride here but she couldn't help but be worried and sickened at the thought was Mason Verger could really do. He was a sadist and the worst type. A rich one, a powerful one. If they didn't get there in time and Mason had even doubted that they weren't coming, her only child was dead. The love of her life was gone. It is a horrible thought for a mother to think. There were no nervous beads of sweat evident on the doctor's brow; he even managed to thank the clerk at the ticket counter. Clarice Starling Lecter on the other hand, was a mess. Her eyes seemed far off, in a sort of daze, her mouth was turned into a tight frown and she seemed so empty. A voice entered Clarice's ears, soft and feminine. Clarice could even smell peppermint off the elderly lady sitting next to her, speaking softly and calmly.

"Are you alright, dear?" The lady spoke in Italian, her light blue eyes moving over Clarice, worried. She didn't know what to say, she couldn't just give a tight smile and nod that would hardly be believable. _Remain calm, Clarice. Please try._ Again his voice and she reassured herself and took a sharp intake of oxygen.

"I'm fine, thank you." Clarice felt herself smiling at the woman, who still did not look so sure she was telling the truth. In the nervousness, however, Clarice had somehow switched over to English.

Clarice then realized, looking into the elderly woman's bright and inquisitive blue eyes, how motherly the woman seemed. The wrinkles crinkling at the corners of her eyes, the light pink lipstick carefully smeared onto the thin lips that were most possibly always upturned in a smile. Neat graying black hair into a bun and half glasses propped on her nose. Clarice then felt herself wondering how her own mother would look like at this age. And then another pang of hurt was in her stomach.

"Are you sure, my child? You seem so….I don't even know the word." Clarice blinked slowly, she was most definitely _not fine._ But the woman could not know the real reason. And she hadn't even realized they had switched over to English.

"My mother. She's gone. I…..I can't believe it. I wish I can say I love you one more time, you know?" Clarice did not have to fake the hot tears streaming down her face but she was not crying for her mother. But the tears were really for Leonardo. But no one could know. She did want to say I love you. _But it won't be the last time, Clarice. _She told herself.

"Oh dear Lord. That's awful. My sympathies. You know, it hurts when someone that close to us leaves us. You begin to feel so empty at first but then the hurt leaves, my child. Then it's the realization that they are actually happy now. Death becomes a blessing sometimes." The woman went to her feet and kindly put a hand on Clarice's shaking arm. "All in good time, my child, and the hurt goes away. I'm going to be in the Maryland area, if you are going to be close, give me a call. I'm Betty Roseland, by the way."

Clarice stared blankly at her. It seemed to make sense for a few moments. Betty Roseland, she seemed to memorize the name completely. She was scared that if she talked, her voice would shake and crack and lose all her composure. She swallowed and moved her eyes beyond Betty Roseland and saw Hannibal's figure coming closer. His eyes were narrowed on the portly older woman. Clarice moved her eyes back on Betty and nodded sadly.

"Caprice Poverelli. I'll do just that."

She had almost said Clarice Starling but caught herself. The woman disappeared just as Hannibal neared, his maroon eyes were on her now. Clarice found herself wishing Leonardo did not look so much like him. It only hurt so much more. More hot tears were going down her face now, leaving her face red and her eyes puffy. Hannibal frowned and put his hands to wipe the tears away. Then his lips. His lips were on her face, kissing the tears away. They were so soft on her skin; they were incredibly soft for a Cannibal's lips. You wouldn't expect that from a convicted serial killer. He looked up at her for a moment and she could see the malice glittering in the maroon.

"Caprice, he will be fine. You forget who I am. He won't get away with this." He was on his knees now, still wiping the hot tears off her face with his fingers and kisses. She forced a tight smile. "We have to leave soon, my love. The plane is leaving momentarily."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hello, boy." Mason Verger cackled to the small boy stand in front of him.

Leonardo Lecter was everything Mason thought he would be. The resemblance was uncanny; he bore the same maroon eyes that had once glittered with enjoyment the night he peeled his face off. The same face that had said, "_Why don't you peel your face off?_" Mason could even picture the small boy bearing the hockey type mask on his face. He already felt a burning hate for the child, it was really the face that did it. The eyes actually topped it off. Hannibal Lecter had magnetic eyes as did Leonardo. The contrast between his pale, pallid skin and his maroon eyes with deep richness of his black hair made the boy handsome to look at. The doctor had that same way about him. The way the father and son carried themselves were identical. Mason knew that the only thing that separated them was that the boy was still innocent; he still hadn't tasted blood or felt it hot in his hands. He never felt the pleasure of taking a life. The multi-millionaire sadist wondered if that was going to change in the future. Would Leonardo Lecter like the taste of human flesh?

"Where are my mother and father?" The boy's voice never cracked, it was firm and he kept his eyes on Mason's hideous face. His jaw was clenched, the muscles twitching with annoyance. If he was older, Mason might have been scared of him.

"They will be here momentarily. At least, I hope so. And really, boy, you should hope so too." Mason paused and searched the confused boy's face. _What beauty. _"I don't even know your name boy."

"Nor do I know yours and stop calling me boy." Leonardo sharply said this and Mason was confused for a moment. The boy might be four or five years of age and he was so articulate, so mature. He also had that courage and spunk his mother had. Mason almost didn't see the Clarice Starling in the boy at all. Now he did.

"Mason. I'd stop calling you boy if you gave me a name."

"Leonardo."

"Alright, Leo." Mason said, nodding. He was about to continue but the boy interrupted him. Anger was in his red eyes and if the sunlight was leaking through the windows and dancing in his eyes, he might have looked satanic or demonic.

"_Leonardo._"

"I apologize, Leonardo. I thought nicknames would be cute. Well, I suppose I was wrong." Mason gave a poor attempt at a smile, his lipless face trying to upturn a bit but it was a miserable failure. It contorted and distorted whatever features he had left, making him look like a hideous fish. The type of fish that no one ever wants to eat and usually just swims at the bottom of the ocean, the type of fish that people shriek at horror at. In all, it was a disgusting attempt and Leonardo tried not to shudder with all his self control. It was a failure. Mason, unfortunately, noticed his disgusted shudder. "Do you think I'm ugly, Leonardo? Be honest." The lights had been on around his face the whole time.

"You didn't have to ask me to be honest, Mr. Mason. You are indeed ugly. Father tells me never to lie or distort the truth; he says it is terribly rude." Leonardo was bold, a little sharp, and brave. He had incredible backbone and as well as incredible manners. Mason had to wonder why. He was so unlike most children. Then he remembered who the little boy's parents were. And he seemed far older then a little boy.

"Well, doesn't dear _Papa _hate rude fucking people." He muttered bitterly and clenched whatever he had left of a jaw. He took a breath and looked at the boy again. "Honesty is an admired trait, Leonardo. Tell me about yourself."

"No."

"No? Why not?"

"You've obviously kidnapped me. Why should I help you or even be nice to you? You took me from my parents." Mason took a sharp intake of breath and narrowed his small, beady eyes on the boy. Time to tell Leonardo Poverelli that he was really Leonardo Lecter. Time for a rude awakening. Mason was actually pondering on keeping the boy alive when he killed the bastard parents. He rather liked him. He could eventually turn the boy over to his tastes.

"Do you know who your parents are, my dear boy?" Confusion seemed to wash over the boy's features. He cocked his head to the left, his eyes moving over Mason's mangled form. He nodded slowly and saw that Mason wanted an actual answer.

"Anthony and Caprice Poverelli."

"Wrong." More confusion. The small boy blinked and bit his lip, wondering if it was a trick question. He was silent, his lips pursed together and his red eyes livid with curiosity with Mason. "Those, Leonardo, are aliases. Do you know what that means?" Mason regretted the question. Don't ever make a Lecter feel stupid. Ever.

"Of course I do!" Leonardo said this sharply and rather loudly. A bit more of a temper then Hannibal, Mason admitted. A fault in Leonardo's character, a temper was a horrible thing. Mason said nothing to acknowledge the outburst.

"Well, Leonardo, your parents' real names are actually Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling. Your real name is really Leonardo Lecter. Rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?"

"Leonardo Lecter?" He muttered to himself and looked up at Mason with his confused red eyes. Mason joked to himself that he looked like a puppy dog Satan. But he was growing impatient and beginning to drum his long fingers on the top of the bed and within a moment or so continued the story for the boy.

"Your father actually is more commonly known as Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter." Mason was actually going to ask the boy if he knew what a cannibal was but immediately decided against it. He waited for the fact to sink into the boy.

"A cannibal is a person who eats people. Father is definitely not that. You're lying."

"No, my boy, I'm not. I have proof." Mason pulled out newspaper clippings. Hannibal Lecter's face was painted on it, he was grinning with malice and you could almost see the red through the black and white. Next to Hannibal's picture was a picture of Clarice Starling, gun in hand and badge in the other. She was grinning as well but she had a softer grin, a kinder one. Leonardo couldn't get his eyes on his mother's picture. Mason realized the boy was reading the entire article and saw Leonardo sharply inhale and blink slowly. The fact sinks in. Leonardo Lecter had an epiphany, of who his parents really were.

"Mama? Papa? This….where am I? This can't be true, Papa. But how can he fake this?" Leonardo was muttering to himself in slow Italian and although Mason could not understand was gleeful, he was absurdly happy and he felt the awkward, hideous smile distorting his features again. Suddenly, Leonardo looked up and his eyes burned with rage even more. He was fiery to look at when he was angry, like his Mother. "My father is a killer? A murderer. _Un_ _Mostro?"_

"Precisely so."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I like this chapter for some odd reason. Before you ask, if you ask. Leonardo is acting very differently; much much much more mature and intelligent then when he was with his parents because well Leonardo is usually like that with people. He tends to be a bit of a Momma's boy so that's why he acted the way he did last chapter. He acts like that with Hannibal too but on a lesser degree.

I hoped you liked it.

PLEASE REVIEW! It makes all the difference.


End file.
